Another Apocalypse
by Hagzissa
Summary: A strange case leads the Winchesters to New England. To save the world they have to join forces with astrophysicist Jacob Glaser (as portrayed by Misha Collins in S.A.). While investigating, both Sam and Dean tie unique bonds with the stranger - will it bring them closer or tear them apart? / Can be read as a simple SPN AU. Destiel-ish, no Cas though. THE apocalypse didn't happen.


**Hello, lovelies!**

**So, this is an attempt on a real solid plot line. I just want to say that my knowledge of American geography equals zero, but I tried my best. Also, I'm not a specialist on the topics discussed in **_**The Real Story**_**, so let's play pretend.**

**I don't have a beta, so there might be some typos, but not too many, I hope.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural I would spent my time writing scripts, not fics.**

**Warning: Although rated T there might be some usage of the bad f word, but personally I think it is prudish and silly to use substitute words when it's so obvious at what you want to say. So. That's it.**

******Have fun reading. **  


If someone asked Sam Winchester what he would like least about being a hunter, he wouldn't say "your back hurting after digging up a grave" or "getting blood stains off your shirts" or even "having to watch every girl you ever screw die". Sure he hated all these things but what he loathed above all was the driving. He hated to sit still, he hated the endless hours on the passenger seat, unable to do something useful.

When he had been younger, he had been sitting in the backseat, occupying himself by reading every book in reach. He had even nicked some library books from the several schools they had went to, always leaving a small note saying "sorry" in the bookshelf. It was not that they couldn't afford books, but his father didn't appreciated Sam's love for fiction.

"You know what's out there," he simply said, as if that was a proper explanation.

"Yeah, I wish I didn't," Sam used to mutter darkly.

The only thing his brother ever read were comics – _Batman_, _the Avengers_ – but he kept it to himself and refrained himself from reading out passages he liked. Apart from that he kept asking a lot of questions. How to fix the car, how to best kill a werewolf, "What's your favorite album, dad?" and occasionally John Winchester would make them recite endless spells in Latin until they knew them by heart.

But now that he was no longer a kid, he was often bored. Sometimes he could do some research while Dean was driving, but most of the time he would simply stare out of the window. He could've written a novel on American landscape by now.

This was one of these days. They were driving up north to New England. Bobby had sent them there. An old friend of his had picked up some strange readings and being too old to investigate himself, he had phoned Bobby.

They had passed New York City in the morning; Sam was tired and annoyed.

"Can't you turn that off?" Sam said.

"What's wrong with _Led Zeppelin_?" Dean asked, sounding personally offended.

"Nothing," Sam said in a defensive sort of way, "It's just… we've been listening to this for three hours straight, man."

Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"Rule number one: Driver picks the music. And who's driving? Me. And I fucking love _Led Zeppelin_, 'kay?"

"Are you kiddin' me, Dean? You are always driving!"

"Alright, I get it. I get it. Just stop whining, pick something else."

Dean gestured vaguely to where his tape collection was stored. His eyes were still fixed on the dark street. Before Dean could stop him, Sam turned on the radio, a triumphant grin on his face. A melodic pop song with heavy use of piano sounded through the loudspeakers.

"I hate you, you know that," Dean said, but he, too, grinned.

Sam laughed. He stretched out (as far as possible – and that wasn't much), folded his arms around his chest and closed his eyes.

The song ended with sad chords fading away.

"_This is _the Real Story_ with Dr. Jacob Glaser on _Boston FM," a deep, husky voice said,_ "Our broadcast is nearly over. We've still got some time for one last call. Anyone who wants to say anything about today's topic – the Pyramids?_"

There was a short pause, then a telephone rang. It sounded like the old phones. "_Yeah._"

A young man's voice answered. The next ten minutes were spent on a conversation revolving mainly about the fourth _Indiana Jones_ movie and the theory that the pyramids were built by aliens.

When the radio presenter said "_It is possible._", Sam quitted his attempt to have a nap.

"That's crap," he said, "There has been research on pyramids for centuries and never was there evidence for any extra-terrestrial involvement. They're talking about all this stuff as if it is fact. It's nowhere near scientifically proven."

"Dude, the shit we're dealing with every day is not exactly _scientifically proven_, either," Dean interjected.

"But we've seen it with our own eyes. Isn't that what you're always propagating? _I only believe what I see with my own eyes_?"

"What if we just haven't seen it yet?"

"Are you serious? Aliens?"

"Why not?"

"Okay," Sam said, "If you believe in aliens - "

"I don't. I just… I mean it's okay to believe in them. It's like your God and angels crap."

Sam sighed. He let his head sink against the cold glass of the window. He didn't want to have this argument now. He didn't want to have it _again_.

"I just… with all the things we see, all the monsters we hunt, it seems only natural that there have to be good forces, you know. Somewhere, out there."

"You know you're right about one thing: I only believe what I see with my own eyes and the last time I saw a _good force _I was twenty and I was watching _The Phantom Menace*_."

They fell silent; both of them were angry. Why were they always fighting?

"_Tomorrow night – from 9pm on - we're talking about _Ley Lines. _I hope you'll tune in! This was _The Real Story _with Dr. Jacob Glaser on _Boston FM. _Goodnight._"

There was static on the loudspeakers for some seconds, and then a new program kicked in, playing something that Dean could only describe as 'noise'. He quickly turned the radio off. Sam was chuckling again.

"What's the matter?" Dean asked.

"Ley Lines."

And they were arguing again. They were not really fighting about Ley Lines and whether or not that was some silly New Age theory; they were fighting because they were irritable and tired.

Dean was annoyed that Sam had to question everything the presenter had said. Jacob. That was his name. If that guy wanted to believe in conspiracy theories, he was fine with that. He also kind of liked the guy – to him it sounded like he took it all with a pinch of salt himself. There was some subtle humor to everything he said, like he was smirking secretly to himself.

"Are you defending the guy?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Dean responded aggressively, his eyes adding a _so what?_

_The following night_

Dean awoke suddenly. He had been asleep only for a couple hours. The night was still young; the alarm clock on the table between their beds displayed a fiery red _1:12_. Dean stared at it, eyes wide open. He didn't feel sleepy at all. What was it that had woken him up? He could hear Sam's breath, calm and steady, and the humming noise of the ice maker in front of their motel room. _1:13_. Should he get up? _1:14_. Without consciously deciding to do so, he stripped off the blanket and got up. He blindly searched the floor for his pants, socks and shoes. When he had managed to put them back on, he headed for the door, careful not to make a sound. Sam had been irritable all day, he didn't want to wake him up now.

The parking lot was lit by the motel sign above the roof only. Its purple light made the Impala's finish gleam in the darkness.

"Hello, baby," Dean greeted the car, gently patting the hood.

He unlocked the door and took his usual seat behind the steering wheel. Without thinking he turned on the radio. It was still set to _Boston FM_.

"_I was wondering,_" a female voice said and Dean immediately imagined an old lady sitting in a large armchair, "_what impact these lines have on our daily life? Why bother to think about them?_"

"_That's a good question, uh - _"

It was him. The radio presenter from the night before. Dean recognized him immediately, his voice was a deep and velvety as ever.

"_Rita._"

"_That's a good question, Rita. I can't give a satisfying answer to that, I suppose. There are several different definitions on what Ley Lines even are. We discussed some of them during the last two hours. But if they link, as Mitchell suggests, places that withhold immense powers, then we have to ask ourselves, what are these powers? Can we use them? Do they propose are threat or may we even use them?_ _There are theories on that as well - _"

And so he went on. Dean didn't bother to understand what he was talking about, he just followed the up and down of this mesmerizing voice. He increased the radios volume and turned on the heater, then he stretched out on the front bench, bedding his head on his jacket. The talking had a soothing effect. He yawned wildly.

When Sam had learnt to read, he had been reading to Dean whenever their dad was on a hunting trip. And before that, his mother had sung him to sleep. It had been in another life, but when he closed his eyes and concentrated very hard, he could hear Mary's sweet voice humming "_Na, na, na, na-na-na-naaa, na-na-na-naaa, hey, Jude…_"

The man's voice, although so very different, reminded him of that. Dean felt sleep creep closer.

"_You've been listening to _The Real Story _with Dr. Jacob Glaser. This is tonight's last song: The Smiths with 'Asleep'._"

And then Dean entered the land of dreams.

He was woken by a soft knocking, followed by a muffled "Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes, only to see his brother's amused face behind the window.

"What have you been doing in there?" he asked, once Dean had managed to get up and leave the car.

Massaging his neck, he answered: "What do you think? Sleeping!"

Sam lifted his brows, but didn't ask any further questions. After a quick shower that was not fully able to relax Dean's stiff limbs (that bloody car wasn't made for sleeping), they headed to a nearby diner for breakfast. Sam opened his laptop as soon as they were seated.

"No Wifi," he snarled.

"Aw," Dean mocked him.

Sam gave him a bitchface. Bobby had promised to send him some statistics and contact details from the former hunter in Boston. He had wanted to do some research of his own, too.

They ordered their breakfast, two light sandwiches for Sam (he wasn't so much into typical breakfast food) and a huge portion of scrambled eggs, ham and sausages for Dean.

"You'll die of a heart attack soon," Sam remarked as he watched his brother devouring his food.

It was almost disgusting.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean managed to say with a full mouth, "Not like I'll be gettin' old anyway."

Sam sighed. Dean was right and it made him sad.

"Can I get you anything else?" their waiter wanted to know.

He was a stout guy, arms and neck heavily tattooed. It was the kind of guy you'd expect on a motorbike driving down a highway feeling free and wild and not in a greasy diner in the outskirts of Boston.

"Nah, we're good," Dean announced.

"Alright."

He returned shortly afterwards with the bill. When he handed it to Sam, who had produced his wallet, they could see two black wings tattooed onto the back of his hand. Dean stared at it, his expression had become totally blank.

"You okay?" Sam inquired as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

"Yeah, I just remembered something."

They went back to the car, Dean still silent. He nearly banged his head against the glass door.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes!" Dean barked, "I had a weird dream, man, that's all."

"What were you dreaming?" Sam asked; immediately unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

"Dreamt of an angel. He was wearing a trench coat."

"Okay…"

He thought he knew his brother quite well but then there were moments like this and he wondered which one of them was the actual freak. Amazed he watched Dean's dreamy expression, as he said: "His name was… Cas. I think it was Cas."

"I thought you didn't believe in angels," Sam said as they sat down in the car.

"It was just a dream," Dean replied.

"Good that dreams never come true," Sam uttered sarcastically under his breath.

*** "Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace" just so you know.**

**Reviews are very much appreciated. Please feel free to criticize! This is about getting better.**

**Next chapter will be up soon, if you want to. Some things will happen in it, I promise ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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